


The Word of Your Body

by haiplana



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gambling, Hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haiplana/pseuds/haiplana
Summary: Charlotte is bored at the gambling tables and can't help but focus on Isabella





	The Word of Your Body

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short one based on a prompt.
> 
> Notice all my titles are Spring Awakening songs.

Isabella truly was a terrible gambler — Charlotte learned this the next time her lover dragged her to the tables. It was reminiscent of the first time they had attended, under the watchful eye of a scheming Lydia Quigley and a calculating Harcourt Fitzwilliam. Charlotte hadn’t actually spent much time playing the tables with Isabella, as they were seated across the room from one another. This time, however, Isabella insisted that Charlotte sit at every table with her, always keeping her close with a secure hand on her forearm.

Charlotte wasn’t bad at the games herself, so she was able to save some of the money that Isabella wagered. Each time Charlotte collected her money, Isabella flashed her a smile that was both guilty and appreciative. Charlotte never held anything — information that had been told to her in confidence, Isabella’s presence on Greek Street — above Isabella, but after today, Isabella would owe a great debt to Charlotte, one Charlotte hoped would be settled that night in her bedroom at Greek Street.

It was after a few too many games of whist (and a few too many glasses of wine) that Charlotte began to lose interest and found herself rather unable to focus. The game was slow — they seemed to be playing with old men, acquaintances who were not suited to be partners. One of them was the dealer, and he was to the right of Charlotte, so she went first in each trick.

Charlotte played her card, then sent a wink to Isabella, her partner, across the table. Isabella bit her lip almost imperceptibly. Charlotte felt her body heat instantly.

There were many instances that Charlotte found herself studying Isabella. It was strange how tight and rigid she was, how the line of her shoulders never wavered and the purse of her lips was always present in public. Charlotte found this presence to be contrasting to how Isabella was when they were together, even from the beginning when they didn’t share each other. Isabella was light and carefree — not reckless like Charlotte, because she had lived long enough and had seen too much, but still witty and soft. Charlotte loved her.

In this instance, Charlotte had found some fascination with the shine of Isabella’s hair. Fanny had been constructing it while Isabella was living with them on Greek Street. Charlotte had begun to watch her do it one time, but it exhausted her just witnessing it, so she left the room. They managed to make it look rather splendid, especially this day.

Charlotte traced the dark hair from where it pulled from Isabella’s face and the base of her neck, leading into fantastic waves. It then went into rows of curls that hid whatever contraption Isabella used to hold her hair high atop her head. Then, there was hair that was put over the contraption and through it so that it looked like her hair was just piled neatly. From where Charlotte sat, it looked incredibly smooth, and not for the first time Charlotte had the urge to take a lock and watch as it fell through the gaps between her fingers like silk.

The dealer harrumphed and said, “Miss Wells,” and Charlotte’s cheeks burned as she straightened up.

“Apologies,” Charlotte mumbled as she threw a card down.

Isabella failed at biting back a laugh, and Charlotte looked up to glare at her.

It wasn’t until later, when they were safe in the confines of the Greek Street parlor, sharing tea and waiting to speak to Charlotte’s ma that it was spoken of.

“You seemed rather distracted at the whist table today,” Isabella said before sipping her tea to hide a smug smile.

Charlotte blushed again, but decided to speak true. “I was looking at your hair. Fanny does a nice job with it.”

“She does.” Isabella stared at Charlotte and leaned closer to her. “Is that all?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Charlotte asked, leaning in herself until their lips were just barely touching.

The swish of a skirt made Charlotte turn her head, Isabella’s lips now brushing her cheek. Margaret Wells was standing in the doorway, observing them with a small smile.

“I suppose your outing was good,” Margaret remarked. Her eyes were soft — she knew Charlotte was happy.

“It was, Ma.”

Margaret stepped further into the room and looked at the clock on the mantle. “It’s rather late,” she said, though it was early for the Wells bawdy house, “why don’t you two sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow?”

Charlotte smiled brightly and hopped up from her chair. She took Isabella’s hand and nearly dragged her out of the room, whispering, “Thanks, Ma,” on the way out.


End file.
